Thursday, June 11, 2015

A Thought on the Parsha

Feel free to download and print
the Parasha sheet and share it with your friends and family: Click here: Parashat
Shelach

Parashat
Shelach is as much a story of leaders as of the people. It is a story of
leaders both poor and good. The poor leaders-ten of the twelve spies-saw the
challenges that confronted them in the land of Canaan and ran: "We are not able to go up against the people; for they
are stronger than we" (Bamidbar, 13:31). The good leaders-Yehoshua
and Calev-saw the same challenges and pushed forward: "Let us go up at once, and possess it; for we are well
able to overcome it" (13:30). What accounts for this
difference?

The simple answer is fear. When a person is
afraid, all he or she can see is the object of his or her fear. Even for those
who had seen all the miracles, who have all the reasons to believe in God,
faith faltered when they were confronted with fear. The people had seen the
hand of God in Egypt, at Har Sinai, and in the Wilderness, and still here, they
were unable to believe that God would save them. Their reaction was the same as
the people's reaction at the Red Sea. The people prefer to go back and be
slaves in Egypt or to stay in the Wilderness rather than confront their fears.
Fear is irrational; it paralyzes.

The answer to fear is faith. Where fear sees
only obstacles, faith sees opportunities: "We are able to overcome
it!" This is what separates good leadership from bad. Leadership based on
fear is no leadership at all. Good leadership must be based on faith in God and
Torah, faith in others and in one's self. Only leadership of faith could take
the people into the Promised Land.

This is one of the things that distinguishes
Modern Orthodoxy. Orthodoxy has in many ways become a religion of fear: fear of
the outside world, of asking hard questions, of delegitimization, and of being
honest with ourselves about our own shortcomings. It is much safer, some say,
to reject the outside world, protecting ourselves in a cloistered environment.

There is much to be afraid of in the unknown,
outside world. What will happen if we confront postmodernism, archeology,
science, history, philosophy, academic Talmud, Biblical criticism, feminism,
and homosexuality? What will happen-how might the world judge us-if we confront
spousal abuse, rabbinic sexual abuse, alcoholism, and drug abuse? What will
happen if we genuinely address the marginalization of single mothers, converts,
the developmentally disabled, those suffering from depression, and children
with special needs? Many in the Orthodox community have chosen to look at these
challenges and say, "We cannot go up, for they are stronger than we!"
The response is to put up walls and to remain in the desert.

But there is more than fear of the outside
world. There is fear of losing full control, of granting the people a degree of
autonomy. It is scary for some to imagine individuals and communities-or even
local rabbis-thinking for themselves. For some, the answer to this is to have
communal issues decided by a Gadol and his da'as Torah, to say: "Is
it not better for us to return to Egypt? Perhaps we were slaves in Egypt, but
everything was secure and predictable. In Egypt, someone else did the thinking
for us." This is leadership of fear, a yiddishkeit destined to stay
in the desert and never go into the Promised Land.

Calev was a different kind of leader with a ruach
acheret, a different spirit. He saw the formidable challenges and most
certainly experienced fear, but he did not give into it. He responded to his
fear by reaffirming his faith, and we must do the same. We must trust in God.
We must trust in the Torah and its ability to confront life's challenges. We
must trust that it can be taken out of its shell and brought to bear on
theological struggles, the economy, and injustice. We need to have enough
faith in the Torah that we can honestly face up to the challenges of agunah,
homosexuality, universalism, and particularism. We need to trust that it
can help us embrace archeology, science, history, and feminism rather than
rejecting them, allowing us to see a larger and deeper truth.

We also need religious leaders who trust in
the people as well as the Torah. We need leaders who do not withhold
information or misrepresent halakha out of a false belief that the
people can't handle the truth, leaders who value the expertise and the voice of
every member of the community, respecting them and including their voices in
its piskei halakha and its decision-making process.

Leadership and a Torah based on faith, not
fear, will be open to hearing other voices, even those in opposition. The
natural response is to try to shut these voices down, as even Yehoshua did when
Eldad and Meidad were prophesying in the camp: "My master, Moshe, restrain
them." It requires a great leader to resist this response, to recognize
that we as a people will only be richer and wiser if we can listen to and
respect visions that are different from our own. It is a rare leader who has
enough faith in himself that he can welcome challenge.

What we most desperately need are religious
leaders who have enough faith in the people, whose deepest desire is not to
lead the people but to empower them. Such leaders know that they will only
truly succeed when they have inspired each individual to find his or her unique
vision and follow it, not when everyone conforms to their vision. We need
leaders who can say, "Who would give that all the nation of God would be
prophets, that God should give God's spirit upon them!" We need leaders
who will take us into the Promised Land.